


Interlibrary Loan

by DameRuth



Series: The L-Space Trilogy [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: A short piece of mildly silly Discworld/DW crossover crack.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.12.26. While on the subject of Terry Pratchett, if you like my DameRuth writing, and also like Good Omens, I've written - and am continuing to write - some fic for the latter over on myargyle4evapseud, so I'll put a plug for that here.]
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: The L-Space Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829134
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Interlibrary Loan

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, this crossover "played" best with Rose and Nine -- probably because of all the ape-related banter they share.
> 
> * * *

Rose was all set to enjoy a quiet session in the library with an agreeably trashy novel. She had a more “respectable” book at hand, in case she should hear the Doctor coming to check on her, a nice cold soft drink at her elbow, and she was comfortably draped across the seat of the tatty red-velvet wing chair with her legs hanging down over one of its arms. She didn’t _expect_ any interruptions because the Doctor appeared to be rewiring the entire control console from scratch, last she’d seen. She didn’t think she’d see another living thing for hours.  
  
That was why it was especially surprising when the orangutan came casually knuckle-walking past her chair.  
  
Rose practically levitated, reflexively tossing her paperback to one side and landing on her feet to the side of the chair. She found herself staring into a pair of bright, surprisingly calm eyes in a face that was shaped like a deflated leather balloon. They both held their relative positions for a moment, while Rose gasped for air, then the orangutan calmly picked up her paperback from where it had landed by its — his? — knuckles.  
  
The orangutan carefully dusted off the book and checked its pages, cover, and spine for damage before reaching out with one startlingly long arm to set it on the side table next to Rose’s drink. The admonishing gaze he turned on Rose afterwards made her feel about six years old, and also convinced her that she was _not_ dealing with a mere animal.  
  
Whether or not she was going round the bend was an entirely different matter, but one thing at a time.  
  
“Who are you, an’ what do you want?” she asked, her voice coming out a little louder and squeakier than she’d intended. Adrenaline did that.  
  
The orangutan’s brow ridge drew down a trifle more, and he pointedly rested one ultra-long, wrinkly forefinger against his pursed lips in an unmistakable gesture.  
  
“Sorry, right, Library,” Rose said, much more quietly, feeling a little dizzy.  
  
The orangutan gave an approving little nod, and then gestured down the nearest aisle of books. “Ook,”  
  
It wasn’t the same as when the TARDIS translated things, but Rose still understood perfectly. After all, what does one look for in a Library besides a book?  
  
“Riiiiiiiight,” she said. “Look, if you’ll excuse me for a minute . . .?”  
  
The orangutan dismissed her with an expansive (literally, given his four-foot-long arms) wave, and turned to consider the shelf.  
  
Rose tiptoed until she reached the Library door — and then galloped full-speed down the corridor towards the control room. She huffed a breath of relief when she saw the familiar boots projecting from underneath the console. With her luck, she’d half figured she’d need to hunt the Doctor down somewhere in TARDIS’s maze of corridors.  
  
“Doctor!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, “there’s a _monkey_ in the Library!”  
  
The boots jerked and there was a muffled _thump_ and “ow!” from the console, followed by the Doctor scuffling out from underneath it to squint up at Rose. “A monkey?” he asked, in tones of disbelief. Then he blinked and raised his eyebrows. “D’you mean an _orangutan_? Big orange bloke, about three hundred pounds, arms four feet long, looks like a big bag of water with a face on it?”  
  
“Yes!” Rose responded, bouncing a little with impatience.  
  
“Oh, well, you should’ve said. That’s an ape, not a monkey. You humans, never bother to get to know your relatives . . .” The Doctor heaved himself to his feet, and rubbed at the red bump that was starting to show on his forehead. “I was wondering when he’d be back.”  
  
“You know him?” Rose asked, startled. Then a horrible thought struck her. “Does he _live_ in the Library?” Her mind went careening off into speculation about what other unexpected life forms might lurk in the TARDIS’s odd corners.  
  
“Nah. Never quite worked out where he comes from, but it must be somewhere with a hell of a Library,” the Doctor said, beginning to walk towards the doorway leading belowdecks.  
  
Rose fell into step beside him. “What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.  
  
“Well, books, y’know. They bend space an’ all. Get enough of ‘em together and you can cross all _kinds_ of dimensions,” the Doctor told her.  
  
Rose gave him a suspicious sidelong glance. He sounded solemn enough, but she was half expecting him to break out in a goofy grin and tease her for being so gullible. “Yeah?” she asked, keeping her tone of voice noncommittal.  
  
“Yeah,” he confirmed, still sounding perfectly on the level. “Dig deep enough in a high-class Library and you could end up anywhere.”  
  
Rose decided to play along. “I think he, um, wants to borrow a book.”  
  
“S’pect that’s why he’s here. I don’t mind. Seems a decent sort, always brings things back, knows how to treat a book. In fact, we do each other favors that way.”  
  
They’d reached the Library, and the Doctor strode inside with confidence, taking a detour to one of the many heavily laden tables that dotted the room. A minutes’ shifting, and he pulled out a large book with an elaborate leather binding. Rose, keeping carefully quiet, pointed in the direction of the orangutan’s last location.  
  
They found him easily enough. He’d skipped the rolling ladder entirely, and was hanging one-handed from the top shelf, perusing titles while having a meditative scratch. He heard their approach, and glanced in their direction.  
  
“H’lo,” the Doctor said, with a manic, tooth-filled grin. “Finding what you need?”  
  
The orangutan responded with a friendly grin that topped the Doctor’s in all respects and nearly made Rose take a step backward. “Ook.” He plucked a book from the shelf and dropped to the floor with a thud like three hundred pounds of custard in a leather sack. The bookshelves (and Rose) jumped slightly, but the orangutan (and the Doctor) looked unfazed.  
  
“While you’re here,” the Doctor continued, “I’ve finished with this one. You can have it back now.” He handed over the leather-bound volume.  
  
“Eek!” The orangutan gave the book a cursory once-over and grinned again. Rose was slightly better-prepared this time. Then, with a cheery wave, their visitor tucked both books carefully to his chest and went knuckling one-armed back into the depths of the stacks.  
  
The Doctor turned on his heel and headed for the Library entrance, with the air of one who considers a social exchange concluded. Rose followed, though she couldn’t help a few backwards glances. That slowed her down and she didn’t realize they were passing the red chair, and her drink and book, until the heard the Doctor laugh.  
  
In horror, she looked ‘round to find him flipping through her guilty-pleasure paperback, looking amused to no end.  
  
“You were _reading_ this?” he asked, in a tone of voice that suggested the book in question was better served by use, as, perhaps, a doorstop.  
  
Rose, mortified, took the offensive. She stomped forward to pull the book from the Doctor’s hands, scooped up her drink and shoved past him towards the door. Then she stopped, and shot back over her shoulder, “Y’know, I will say this for my relatives -- they may scratch themselves in public, but at least _they_ don’t go criticizing my taste in reading!”  
  
She tossed her head, and continued haughtily on her way.  
  
_A good exit,_ she decided with some satisfaction when she was out in the corridor . . . though she found herself briefly (and unexpectedly) wishing she could have knuckled off as nonchalantly as the orangutan.  
  
Now _that_ was class.  



End file.
